


A Different Thread

by themanicpixieblackgirl



Category: Twisted (TV)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Twisted: AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themanicpixieblackgirl/pseuds/themanicpixieblackgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets that tell a different story, unrelated to the murders of Regina/Tara. I may, or may not, have drafted snippets of Lacey's, Archie's, and Danny's lives and relationships well into their twenties...o well<br/>idk if this counts as au?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you think and stuff.

“I’ll never be able to kiss you in these halls again.” Archie says, doing more than enough to make up for that. Lacey pulls away to consider his options. "Technically, you could. We would just be that weird thirty-something year old couple that keeps coming back here *just* to make out in the hallways."  
It's the night of graduation, and they're supposed to be meeting their families for dinner, but they've snuck away to stave off reality for a few moments.  
“That would be very, very strange.” He says.  
Smiling big, before he kisses her again, she says, “In these halls? I’ve lived through stranger.”

Archie went to junior prom with a cheerleader whose name he doesn’t remember, and Lacey wore a yellow silk dress that he hasn’t forgotten. They were on and off again through most of high school, because every time Archie saw Danny, he couldn’t handle the thought of her having been with him, but that night, she surprised him when she showed up to prom with Tanner King, the captain of the baseball team. Though he was relieved Danny wasn’t her date, he was still jealous. Archie decided that he didn’t want to look back at his old senior yearbook and see pictures of Lacey in someone else’s arms, so they stayed “on” through senior year--and, if you ask him, no one has ever looked more beautiful in a cheap plastic tiara than Lacey Porter.

Now, they’re lying on the roof of his car on the last night they will get to sleep under Green Grove stars as teenagers, and under the blanket, Archie’s holding a cold-natured Lacey in his arms. Graduation was last week, and they’re all packed up and ready to go tomorrow: he to Syracuse, and she to Italy for a few months of the gap year she's taking.  
“Will you marry me?” Archie asks, and she rolls her eyes as a grin cracks her face.  
He adds, “Not right now, but later. When we’re older, when we come back to Green Grove.”  
Something sinks in her stomach when she realizes he’s serious, and it’s like she’s been forced into a box and can feel the walls of Green Grove falling in on top of her. She doesn’t want to be tethered to Archie, doesn’t want to come back to Green Grove. She discovered a body here, lost a friend, had to cut through years of taunting and torture to carve a space for herself, lost another friend, had to readjust her life for Danny, lost approval for her attraction to Danny, had to wrestle her way out of the tangle of Jo’s insecurities and negativity, had her boyfriend play tug-of-war with her feelings because of Danny, watched her dad fall away from her family, watched her mother fall further into a stoic and beautiful defense, had to help and guide Clara through it all….this isn’t her happy place.  
Lacey rolls over to bury her lips at the base of his neck before trailing kisses from the hollow to his cheekbones and, finally, to his mouth. In high school, kissing Archie was a sort of reprieve. With his smells-like-cookies-all-the-time house, All-American smile and charm, and literal soccer mom, being with him let Lacey make believe she had claim to that slice of ‘normal’, and that was a sort of freedom, but now that she has graduated and has other options, the thought of having to live out a marriage here--or, god forbid, raise her children here, overwhelms her. Green Grove is a town that never forgets: just spins its secrets into stories that will be shared, like kisses blown to her children. History haunts Green Grove, and there will be whispers of the Years of the Murderer for as long as they’re all alive. She survived Green Grove, not lived in it, and she doesn’t want to come back to it.  
He doesn’t stop playing with her hair, but he pulls away from the kiss for a moment to say, “You’re avoiding my question.”  
Her surprise doesn’t hide well; since when is Archie so astute? Lacey Porter Analysis has always been more of a Danny Desai specialty.  
Danny, who she shouldn’t be thinking of as her boyfriend considers their potential future together.  
Danny, who would understand why she can’t stay here.  
Danny, who...who she hasn’t spoken to since he left freshman year.  
There are holes in her heart where people should be, and Lacey is tired of the push and pull and *hurt* Green Grove loves to demand of her.  
She laughs lightly, tries to play it off. “Come on, Archie…be serious.” She says.  
“I *am*.”  
“These are promises you make to childhood friends.” She means they are promises that aren’t meant to be remembered or kept, but his eyes narrow, and she groans inwardly.  
“I didn't mean that Danny and I…”  
“You know what? Just forget it.” Archie says, flushing red with a shame that’s quickly turning to envy.  
She sighs. “Archie, let’s not do this. This is our last night together. I don’t want to fight.” She says, sliding a cold hand under his shirt. Her touch is a thrill, and he decides that tonight, he’ll ask for nothing more than for her to just be.


	2. 2.

What would have been Lacey’s engagement ring is now the ring his new girlfriend, Christina, takes every opportunity to show off.  
It had been his grandmother’s ring, and when he’d talked to his mother about giving it to Lacey, she wasn’t surprised. It was like she'd known he and Lacey would be a done deal from the start. Kathy been pleasant enough to all of his other girlfriends, but only Lacey had been invited to try on some of her old dresses from her modeling days. Only Lacey had gotten the recipe cards, and only Lacey had lasted long enough to be in two of the family Christmas photos. His favorite picture from one of the shoots wasn’t even one that was meant to be taken: Lacey was sitting in his lap--he’d had to hold his arms around her so she wouldn’t fall, because she’d been so full of energy that her laughter was full-bodied and she kept hiding her face in his neck and just being adorable. In the picture, she was focused intently on the adjustment of his peppermint-striped tie clip, and he was equally as focused on the way she bit her lips. Her lips were full and red, and this new lip stain was sweet--he knew from having kissed her multiple times since they’d entered the studio. His lips had been almost as red as hers by the time they were done, but he’d needed to kiss her again, and again, to correctly place the taste of that lipstain.

“Archie?”

He looks up, and his girlfriend turns slowly in the red lace dress she’s wearing.

“Do you like this one or the blue one?” She asks.

They’re in a dressing room, and she’s looking for dresses for one of her sorority things, none of which she has yet gotten him to go to with her. This time, it’s a Christmas social...formal...semi-formal...something, or the other. He always uses soccer or studying as an excuse, which she suspects is crap, but she never pushes it. Even now, he’s been staring into space and not really paying attention to her.  
But, he did give her his grandmother’s ring, so that has to mean something, right?  
Okay, fine--so she found it and gushed about it until he let her borrow the sapphire ring. But, when people asked, and she joked about them getting married, he never said anything against it... _just looked at her like maybe he was wishing she were someone else._  
Christina frowns, blinks, and shakes that thought out of her head. She doesn’t know where it came from. She turns to look at the back of the dress in the mirror again.

“I got too much of a Cinderella vibe from the blue one.” He says, and she smiles. She is petite, with reddish blonde hair and sweet Southern charm. She’s very much unlike a certain someone he can’t seem to stop thinking about, and she’s looking at him with wide blue eyes as she plays with the ring on her finger.

“Are you sure you like this one better?” Christina asks, turning back to her reflection with an unsure glance.

He says, “Positive. I’ve always liked lace.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a new year, and Archie's girlfriend is now his fiance. but, Lacey's back.

Think of the devil, and she appeared.

Archie grimaced. That wasn’t true, or fair to her; if Lacey were to appear every time he thought of her, well...Christina wouldn’t have been the one he kissed to ring in the New Year.

It’s been four years since he saw Lacey, but now she’s back to help Clara move into the freshman dorms for the spring semester--or, more accurately, Mr. Porter and Company are moving Clara’s things into her new dorm, and Judy, Lacey, and Clara are pointing them in the right directions.

“Archie!” She’s surprised to see him, and even though he warns that he’s gross from working out, she gives him a hug and says, “It’s okay...I’ve been helping Clara move in all day, so I’m probably also disgusting.”

“Yeah, but you...you look great.” He says, not wanting to think about why it makes him feel so good that she is so happy to see him. Her body fits against his like it always has; she wakes up something inside of him, and he doesn’t want to let her go. In what he hopes is a less wistful tone, he adds, “But, that’s probably because *you* haven’t actually been doing any of the work.”

She makes a face and starts to insist that she’s been “of tremendous assistance, thankyouverymuch...”, but Mr. Porter and his boyfriend come back out to collect some more things from the truck, invalidating her protests. Judy and Clara follow Eli and Mr. Porter. They’re not carrying anything, either, but they’re pointing the men in the right direction. Archie smirks at Lacey.

“Right...you were saying?”

“At least I’m dressed the part.” She says, gesturing to her workout tank and yoga pants.

“If the part is activewear catalog model, then sure.” Archie says, and she rolls her eyes--but, she does it with a grin, and seeing that dimpled smile again is like leaving a cold room for the warmth of the sun.

There’s one more person helping move Clara’s things into the dorm, and Clara has made a couple of new friends based solely on the fact that they’re curious about how she was able to wrangle such an attractive group of move-in helpers.

“Danny.” Archie acknowledges him, with a nod.

“‘Sup, Archie.” Danny says, and they exchange tight smiles.

Danny reaches around Lacey for another one of Clara’s boxes, and she deftly sidesteps him to avoid touching his sweaty chest. Noticing the look of mild disgust that crosses her face, he gives her a pointed look before wrapping both of his sweaty arms around her.

“Ew, don’t touch me; you’re all gross.” She says, pushing him away with a wrinkle of her nose, and Archie feels a sense of deja vu--he’s reminded of when she pushed him away back when Danny came back to Green Grove and joined the soccer team. That was a long time ago, though, and this time, the context is different: her shove is playful, and the reprimand lighthearted. There is no guilt from Lacey’s end, no pushing Danny away to hide the guilt of a secret hookup.

“It’s just sweat, Lace--you might be able to relate if you were actually helping.” Danny says, before Judy walks out to ask if the box Danny is reaching for is the last one.

“Should be.” Clara says, following her mother, and it makes Archie smile. She, like Judy and Lacey, is dressed for work she’s not actually doing.

“Hey stranger.” Judy says, to Archie.

“Hello, Mrs. Porter.” He says, having to bend to hug her.

Clara greets him with an enthusiasm he’s missed, before Mr. Porter and Danny request that she come tell them where to place the furniture so they can just be done with this day already.

“Danny Desai, huh?” Archie asks, his voice distant, as if he’s reaching somewhere inside of him for an animosity that’s no longer there. There’s jealousy, sure, but no explicit hatred for Danny: just a weary acceptance of who they’ve all become.

With a shrug and a sigh, Lacey says, “Danny and I--we’re…”

“You don’t have to explain.” He says, and after a moment, adds, “We should catch up. You should meet my girlfriend.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and he thinks that maybe that didn’t come out sounding as casual as he intended--he said it to make up for thinking so much about Lacey for the past few minutes.

“I mean, only because Clara already has.”

When he found out Clara was going to be in the same city, he made himself accessible to her. He took her to lunch, helped her navigate the city, made sure she had access to tutors, and even tried to vet any potential boyfriends on occasion. His separation from Lacey hadn’t stopped him from loving Clara as if she were his little sister. His presence in the undergrad spaces was one of the reasons he and Christina had even started talking--he’d gone to drop Clara off at her dorm on a night she’d called him for a ride from a frat party, and he found himself in conversation with the curvy blonde whose sorority sister was Clara’s roommate. When they started dating, Christina won brownie points with Archie by helping Clara get into the sorority--of which she was president. She figured that if Clara was going to be on campus and stay such close friends with Archie, it would benefit her to stay on good terms with the sister of the woman her boyfriend had spent a good chunk of his life in love with.

“Okay.” Lacey says, “I’d love to; I’m going to be in town for a bit, anyway.”

“Dinner?”

“Sure.” She says, and he has to look at somewhere other than that smile, those eyes…

She opens her arms to him, and her brows rise in question. He hugs her, holding her tighter than he expected himself to want to, and he holds on longer than he should. Someone he hasn’t seen for four years shouldn’t be having this effect on him.

Behind them, someone clears his throat and breaks the spell between them.

“Ready to go grab lunch?” Danny asks, holding his hand out to Lacey.

She steps away from Archie and walks over to Danny, taking his hand in hers. For a moment, Archie feels like an idiot.

But, in front of Danny, Lacey says, “I’ll call you later about tonight.”

And, she does.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little dinner date with Archie and Co.

Archie meets her outside of the restaurant and greets her with a smile.

“You look great.” He says, taking in the sight and scent of her as he leans in to kiss her cheek--polite.

Lacey smiles, and says, “You always say that.”

“Always mean it.” He says, and for a moment, Lacey imagines that he’s looking at her the same way he used to right before he kissed her.

She breaks eye contact and looks pointedly at the door. He clears his throat and takes a step back so that he isn’t standing so close, and she is no longer able to smell his cologne.

“At least diversify your vocabulary a bit.” She teases, smacking his stomach lightly with her clutch, as a waiter guides them to their table for two. They were supposed to get a table for four, but the waiter just assumed they were together, and neither of them thought to correct him.

Christina notices when she gets there, though, and asks, “I thought it was going to be a party of four?”

Lacey says, “Danny had some work he had to get done.” Truth: Danny passed on voluntarily spending an entire evening with Archie.

Archie suggests moving to a bigger table, but Christina shakes her head.

“No, it’s fine--the wait for a table will be crazy long; I can just pull a chair up to this one.”

Archie notices her momentary change of expression and puts an arm around her shoulders.

He says, “I think it’s time for a proper introduction. Lacey, this is Christina--she’s the girl I’m going to marry.”

Christina rolls her eyes at his words--but, with a smile and blush that tell Lacey she’s happy about what he just said.

“You’re the famous Lacey Porter--it’s so nice to meet you.” Christina says, and Lacey offers her beautiful mega-watt smile.

“Well, I did win the third grade spelling bee once, so I should have known someone would recognize me.”

“Aw, you’re so funny!” Christina says, and an amused Lacey thanks her for being sweet. For a horrible moment, Archie has the thought that his fiancee seems childish standing next to, and speaking with, Lacey. He takes his arm from around her and reaches for his drink.

“Thanks for all your help with Clara, by the way.” Lacey says, “She told me you were her advantage during fall Rush.”

“Please, she’s beautiful, smart, and a talented gymnast--she would have gotten in without my help.” Christina says.

“I’m glad she found some surrogate sisters while her real one was in Italy.” Lacey says.

Archie says, “Not that you would ever be an easy replacement.”

There’s a silence that falls a bit too heavily for a beat too long, and when Lacey’s eyes flicker to his, he stares back at her for a bit too long.

Ever the diplomat, Lacey says, “No, but you have to admire the woman who’s willing to call a Porter woman her sister.”

It’s that easy for her to rope Christina back into the conversation.

“Oh, please--Clara is a total sweetheart.” Christina says.

“Try saying that again once she’s raiding your closet, because that’s what sisterhood with her is really like.”

“Couldn’t be any worse than you stealing as many of my sweatshirts as you did.” Archie says, and it’s that easy for him to push Christina back out.

Again, Lacey saves by saying, “I only did that because I needed something with big enough pockets to smuggle in junk food whenever my mom locked down the house during her cleansing stints.”

Even though Lacey is trying to be receptive to Christina, Christina catches it all: the way Archie looks at her, the way he’s not actively participating when Lacey asks them to tell the story of how they met, the way she’s kind of blocking the walkways with her chair sticking out the way it is...and, she has to swallow the bitterness rising from her stomach and tune out the voice in her head that keeps telling her that all she will ever be doing is pulling a chair up to Lacey and Archie’s table for two.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know. Just flerffing about.

Lacey is standing in the waiting area when Archie walks into the coffee shop that’s in the same building as the bank in which he works. The hem of a pale pink skirt peeks out from underneath her black trenchcoat, and she’s wearing tall flat boots that try to make up for how short the ensemble is.

“Hey, you.” She says, when he comes up to her with a smile and a hug.

“Hey, yourself. You--”

“Lemme guess, I look great?”

“I was going to say you really do look like you could use a cup of coffee, but wow, check out _your_ ego.” He says, and she makes a face at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting a pizza.”

“Very funny. I meant what are you still doing here in Syracuse?”

“I could ask you the same thing--I remember a certain someone wanting to spend the rest of his life in Green Grove.

“I’ll go back, but the bank’s headquarters are here, so once I finish this year, I’ll be able to transfer to the one in Green Grove with a higher base salary.”

“Look at you go.” She says, and for a brief moment, she imagines what married life with Archie would be like…

_1\. She is walking down the aisle in a beautiful, traditional dress for her big, traditional chapel wedding with clouds of white flowers and blue cherry blossoms wrapped around pews; rows and rows of family and friends--aunts wearing giant pillbox hats and mothers toting tissues; bridesmaids and best men in one smiling, beautiful line; priest standing with a bible in hand under an ornate arch; and, Archie standing there, transfixed._

_2\. Sitting in a private hospital room with a monitor and a hopeful Archie. Hand over a pregnant stomach. It’s a girl._

_3\. They have those horrible family pictures made that every upper middle class white family must apparently own--the beach pictures with everyone wearing tan/khaki and white. Except Lacey is Lacey, and so the pictures look like they were taken for the Lacey Yates Bridal Campaign._

_4\. Island vacations, and expensive presents, and a doting husband--oh my!_

_5.. The kids are grossed out by their parents kissing, and in this imagination, marriage to Archie has turned her into the sweater-and-house-robe wearing Lifetime-style mom who doesn’t really ever have to work--which isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. It just isn’t her._

_6\. One cold winter’s eve, they are standing in their expansive kitchen, he is kneeling in front of her, kissing her stomach and holding her close. Beautiful. Comfortable. Safe._

Choosing her words carefully, she decides, “Christina will be lucky to have you.”

Archie looks away. “Right…” He says, “So, you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“I’m waiting for Clara to get out of class so we can go find her a dress for some sorority thing she’s going to--a social, a gala, a…”

“Formal.” Archie says, “if I’m right, and it’s the same thing Christina has been talking about, then it’s probably their first formal of the new year.”

“It’s actually Clara’s first real one of the entire year, besides the thing they threw for them when they became real members, or whatever.”

Archie starts to tell her what it’s called, but she dismisses the pending correction with a wave.

“I don’t really care--I just want to spend some time with my sister before I have to leave for Manhattan in a few days.”

“What is it, exactly, that you do?”

“I’m an assistant buyer for fashion week.”

“New York Fashion Week? Isn’t that not until April or something?” He asks.

“Which is why we started working last year. It’s never over.” She says, “Anyway, I’m taking Clar to a friend’s House to see if I can get her one of last year’s customs.”

“I’m guessing by ‘friend’s house’, you mean…”

“Marianne Moore, the fashion house.” She says, adding a “finally!” when the barista calls out her name and sets her cup on the counter. The line was ridiculously long when she placed her order, but when she walked in, she still had an hour before Clara was out of class, so she told herself the green tea frappe was worth the wait.

Archie watches her turn on her heel to get her cup, and when she motions for him to follow her out of the crowded coffee shop so they can sit at a table in front of it, he wishes he could do more than just wish for her. Lacey Porter is magic, and damn, has the woman been busy. She tells him about her gap year in Italy, her internship, and the time she managed to semi-gracefully introduce herself to Anna Wintour (“I waited until _after_ she’d turned away to have my heart attack," she says, with laughter), and how she would like to get married in Prague one day. Lots of travel, lots of fashion, lots of work, lots of fun. Work hard, play harder. Very Lacey. He tells her about his “admittedly predictable” white-collar job, about how he’s only gotten to go back to Green Grove for the holidays--with the exception of this past Christmas.

“You missed Christmas? Archie, how could you!” Lacey asks, feigning shocked horror.

He’s not laughing, though, because he didn’t go home for Christmas because he didn’t want to take Christina, and he doesn’t want to admit to himself, or Lacey, why he is hesitant to introduce the rest of his family to the woman he’s asked to marry him. “Why so soon?” His mother asked when he told her he was going to give Christina his grandmother’s ring, for real this time--which was strange, considering she didn’t question his timing back when the ring was going to be Lacey’s. He didn’t have an answer for her then, and he doesn’t have to answer to Lacey now, because her phone rings, and it’s Clara.

“She doesn't want to drive, so I have to go pick her up. You’re welcome to come with us.” She says, after she hangs up.

“I’d love to.” He calls work and tells the secretary to push his two consultations to tomorrow.

Lacey picks up her empty cup and aims for the trash can. Her mouth is stained a rich plum, but her lips didn’t leave a print on the cup she drank out of, and Archie notices.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lacey asks, “Were you thinking I wouldn’t make that shot?”

No. He was thinking that he could pull her up against him and kiss her until he saw stars, and he would walk away without a stain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if you ever catch any typos or repeated words that don't make sense in any of these (I have a really bad habit of not editing before I post, so all of these are first drafts and therefore prone to having sentences like "her laughter was laugh" when I meant to write "her laughter was light" -_-).  
> Write drunk; edit never, lest you begin to hate yourself for writing in the first place--jk that's horrible writing advice and this is why I really should not be allowed to computer after a certain time.


	6. Flashback.

Even though they were relieved that the knock on Lacey’s bedroom door wasn’t Judy’s solid triple rap, they still made sure to adjust their clothing before she walked across the room to open the door to Clara.

“Hey, you’re home early--what’s up? And, who drove you home?” Lacey asked, surprised she hadn’t gotten a call from Clara’s gym-or, at the very least, her mother-about class being cancelled early. This was the week after Clara’s thirteenth birthday--back when Lacey still had a wrought-iron bed princess bed inside of her pale-pink, vaguely princess-y bedroom. Her room had been Clara’s first stop before her own; her gym bag was still slung on her shoulder, and she was still in her leotard and sweats.

Clara said, “Mom did. But, she just went back out.”

“Where to?” Lacey asked. Clara shrugged.

“I don’t know, but she was on the phone with dad, so…” she’ll probably be gone a while. Is what Clara didn’t need to add.

“Oh.” Lacey was surprised her parents were speaking at all; to her knowledge, her mother hadn’t spoken to her father since Clara’s birthday, and her father hadn’t yet tried to contact either girl. Neither Lacey nor Judy had told Clara about Mr. Porter--they’d agreed that he deserved the chance to choose to tell her.

“Yup.” Clara says, and the weight in her voice was just as heavy as the one in Lacey’s. She said, “Anyway, I was just going to order a pizza and see if you wanted some?”

Clara hated pizza; her delivery choice was always Chinese food. This was her asking for company. Lacey opened her bedroom door wider, and Clara just looked at Danny blankly, too tired to pretend he hadn’t been the reason the door was locked.

“Sorry, you were busy. I’ll just go lie down or something.” Clara mumbled, but Danny came up behind Lacey and touched a hand to her waist and, for a moment, she was afraid he would run, or ask too many questions.

He did neither. He just gave Clara a smile and said, “Nah, we were supposed to be doing homework, but I think we might just watch--Lacey, what’s that movie you’ve been trying to get me to watch? Princess Tribe?”

“Princess Bride.” They both corrected him.

“You’ve really never seen it?” Clara asked, and Danny shook his head. Not much time for movies in juvie.

Lacey said, “It’s settled, then. Clar, go take a shower and get your homework. I’ll call in take out, and we can watch the movie after you’re done.”

She didn’t have to say it twice; Clara’s eyes lit up, and she dragged her bag off to her room.

Lacey turned around to face Danny--he didn’t step back, so she kissed him. He put his hand on the door, over her head, and pushed it closed.

“You don’t have to stay.” She told him, in between kisses.

He shrugged, as if it were totally normal that neither of her parents were home and she and her sister had just been about to fall into a joint depression.

He said, “It’s the weekend. I have no reason not to.”

He took some of her pillows down to the living room and unfolded some giant blankets on the couch while she called in takeout for Clara and pizza for herself, which she’d paid for and had set paper plates out on the living room coffee table for by the time Clara came down in her pajamas, holding her notebooks to her chest. She sat between Danny’s feet as he carefully combed out her relaxed hair, and she passed Lacey the pages of her homework as she completed it.

Later, when the movie was over and Clara had fallen asleep, Danny carried her to her room, closed her door, and went back to help Lacey clean up.

Once the blankets were folded and the dinner boxes and plates disposed of, Lacey said, “Hey, thanks for staying. I’m really glad you were here.”

She put her arms around his and kissed him, long and slow, and he said, “So worth it.”

“You’re sort of perfect.” She said.

“I’m just trying to keep up with someone I know.”

“Really? Who?”

“Eh...you wouldn’t know her.”

He followed her back to her room, kissing her every few steps of the way. When she closed the door behind them and turned off the light, her pink room was still lit up by the moon, and for a moment, she saw Archie’s muscled soccer body lying where Danny lay right now.

“Don’t you think you’re a little big for my princess room?” She’d asked Archie, once before. He’d grinned and said that all that mattered was that he wasn’t too big for her queen sized bed. He’d pulled her into her lap when she moved to sit beside him, and started to trail kisses down her neck. She’d looked around her room, and Archie was everywhere; pictures of his and her smiling faces were on the wall, and he was kissing her dimpled cheek on the once taped to her vanity mirror.

Danny said her name, and she went over to him and curled herself over him like a cat, and they just laid there together with her head on his chest, her fingers tracing circles on his arms, and his heartbeat in her head…

Now, in the dressing room of Marianne Moore’s showroom, Lacey stops sifting through the racks of clothing to look up at her ex-boyfriend and her little sister. She watches him furrow his brows, concentrating on how to work the laces on the back of the dress Clara wants to try on, and something comfortable settles deep inside of her chest.

“This is where I belong.” Archie had said, all those years ago, when it struck her how out of place he was in her bedroom and her life, and now, she knew that he had been right--that was where he belonged; smiling in all of those pictures taped to the wall of her past.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if the tense changes were too confusing, yeah?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot going on in this, but don’t hate me till you’ve read the whole thing.

1.

_“Big city fashionista marries the small town heartthrob? Lacey Porter, I never figured you for such a cliche.”_

_Lacey is a beautiful bride. Everyone knew she would be, but knowing something and seeing what you know confirmed are sometimes two completely different experiences. He gets to spend the rest of his life with her. He gets to wake up to her and kiss her casually when he gets home from work. He gets to take her to bed, put his arms around her, and just stay like that for days on end. He is transfixed._

_Karen Desai is idly twisting pearls into the strands of Lacey’s hair. She’s here because she loves Lacey, but when her eyes meet Lacey’s in the mirror, they give away what everyone already knows: that she wishes she were sending Lacey down the aisle to Danny instead of Archie._

2.

“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” Clara says, “Archie, I’ve always liked you, but you’re a shit actor.”

She’s standing at the bar in his apartment kitchen, barefoot and making herself lemonde. Her roommate brought her boyfriend over this afternoon, and Clara just didn’t have the capacity to deal, so she went over to Archie’s, and he started talking to her about his engagement to Christina--being careful not to mention the other factor in his indecision.

“You’re one of her ‘sisters’--aren’t you supposed to be selling me on our engagement?” He asks, and she shrugs.

“I love Christina. She’s been really sweet and supportive, but I just think it’s weird that you want to get married so soon? Like, what’s the rush? Besides--not that I know much about the type of person you’re usually into, but Christina isn’t, like--

“She’s no Lacey?” He asks, and Clara’s eyebrows rise.

She looks so much like Lacey in that moment that he can’t hold her eye--it’s that thing the Porter women do with disturbing effectiveness: communicate everything with a quirked brow, narrowed eyes, pursed lips...

“I was going to say she doesn’t really seem like your type.” Clara continues, slowly, “But, same difference, apparently.”

Archie bites the inside of his cheek.

“Clara, I…”

She holds her hands up. “Hey, I’m not getting into this. Nope. I refuse. But, you should probably get your shit together before you see either your girlfriend, or Lacey again.”

 

3.

Christina is having lunch with Lacey, as per her (Christina’s) request, and she keeps twisting the ring around her finger.

“Archie was at the formal last night.” Christina says.

Archie told Lacey he loved her last night.

“He has never come to any of the sorority events, but he was there last night.” Christina is saying.

He closed his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, and when she put her arms around his neck, he closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck, trying to hold onto as much of her as he can in this single moment.

Lacey says, “He was probably there for the same reason I was: Clara.” And, wow, that lie doesn’t sound like she even tried to mean it.

Under the bell tower, he touched his forehead to hers, closing the space between their faces, and Lacey felt the _weirdest_ sense of deja vu--except she and Archie were in the wrong roles.

“He looks at you the way I wish he would look at me.” Christina says, quietly.

His blue-grey eyes were dilated so much that all she could see in them was herself, and she thought she wanted this, too.

Christina says, “You’re gorgeous, and funny, and smart, and well-traveled, and glamorous, and I’m not one for insecurity or petty jealousy--but, if this were a movie, you’d be the mysterious woman from my husband’s past who whisks him away to Paris for a midnight tryst, or something.”

He pleaded with her for “just one…” Just one kiss, one touch, one night. And, when the sun came up again, everything would be back to normal. He was so close that she could hear the almost inaudible whisper of a breath when he parted his lips.

“You’re the woman he leaves me at the altar for. You’re the woman who reminds him our children were a mistake. You’re the woman he would wonder about. I’m the woman he would regret.”

Lacey turns her eyes away from the window, and her mind away from last night.

“You’ve thought about this a lot.” She says, and Christina blushes, trying to keep her tone light and unembarrassed. “I’m sure Archie has dated a lot more people since he and I were seventeen--and, I could choose to take offense to the implication that I would do anything to…”

“No.” Christina says, “I’m sorry. I guess I really should be having this conversation with him. I didn’t mean to make you think that I thought you were some kind of…I’m just more afraid of what Archie would do, I guess…”--the diamonds of the ring catch the sunlight, and she bites her lip-- “Or, what he won’t do, now.”

Last night, Lacey said no. Because, as she knew, “Once is never enough.”

She can’t offer Christina assurance that she is wrong about Archie’s feelings for her, but she can offer a promise. She holds a hooked finger out to Christina, who is thrown off by the childish gesture.

“Come on, pinkie up.” Lacey says, wiggling her little finger until Christina locks pinkies with her. “I promise you that there will be no midnight trysts--Parisian, or otherwise.”

Christina laughs, Lacey smiles, and this pinky promise is like the weight of a seal.

When she took one last deep breath--the last of their shared air--and, stepped away from him, he said, "Remember when you told me you were confused and overwhelmed when Danny came back? I get it now."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Lacey’s goodbyes with Clara aren’t tearful--now that Lacey is back in the country, she’ll be back to being the Lacey who swings by on occasion, just to take Clara to lunch, or something. Plus, she’ll be seeing her sister again during Fashion Week. You only get in as a model, a member of the press, a buyer, a tech hand, or a celebrity, and in a few months, Clara will have a shiny laminated badge that marks her as an assistant’s buyer. Being Lacey Porter’s little sister is kind of a sweet gig.

So, on Lacey’s last night in Syracuse, she and Clara spend the night eating ice cream on the bed in her hotel room. She doesn’t bring up Archie, and Clara doesn’t ask.

“Hey--where’s Danny?” Clara asks.

“He left yesterday. Said he had a project to finish up in Prague.” Lacey says, with a pout. Danny left last night with a kiss and a promise that she’d see him again before she had the chance to miss him.

“What the hell is he doing in Prague? What is he--a jewel thief?” Clara asks.

“Probably. He doesn’t tell, and I won’t ask. That way, when the FBI asks, I’ll be telling the truth when I say I have no clue.” Lacey jokes, with a wink, stabbing her spoon into her frozen ice cream.

Clara watches her make a few more stabs at the ice cream before taking the spoon out of Lacey’s hands and getting out of bed to run it under some hot water before handing it back to her.

Lacey smiles her thanks, and Clara carefully asks, “Are you happy with him?”

Lacey furrows her eyebrows. “Yes. Why do you sound doubtful?”

“Because, I love him, but I also want you to be safe. He’s still Danny. He’ll always be full of secrets.”

“Since when have you been so skeptical of him?”

“Ever since I found out what first degree murder charges were.”.

“He’s not a serial killer. He killed one person. A long time ago.”

“Was that supposed to make it sound better?” Clara asks, and Lacey, realizing how absurd that must have sounded, starts to laugh.

“You’re right.” She says, “I know it’s weird, but I trust him. I love him.”

Clara says, “It’s different when you’re sixteen. When a guy starts to scare you, your parents will make sure he leaves you alone. When you’re twenty-six, it’s all on you.”

Lacey regards the set of Clara’s jaw, and says, “Somehow, I doubt I’m all alone.”

Clara smiles. “Insert obligatory protective-sister threat here.”

Lacey thinks about her life with Danny. He is her other half; he reacts to her emotions and body language before she has even completed her thoughts. He is beautiful, and charming, and amazing. But then, men like him always are, as long as you’re not on their bad side. What would it take for her to get on Danny’s bad side? She has never felt threatened by him, but what if that was just because he tempered himself for want of her affection? And, what if they had kids? Would she have to protect their children from a father who didn’t love them? Would he ever try to kill again? Does he really love her, or is this just a beautiful pretense? Is it too late to run back to Archie and safety?

Suddenly, her sweet tooth isn’t as persistent, and the ice cream doesn’t taste as wonderful as it did a few moments ago. She eats a few more bland tablespoons so that Clara doesn’t get suspicious, but while Clara falls asleep as easily as she used to, curled up at Lacey’s side, Lacey doesn’t sleep for hours.

 

*

Lacey is at her desk in Manhattan, in an office that’s straight out of Devil Wears Prada with its stark white, chrome, and glass build and high-fashion decor. It’s not modeled directly after the office ruled by Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestly-- _nooo_ of course not, because that would mean that Lacey’s boss would have to admit to having never gotten over the style choices of a 2004 movie, and to being an even bigger fan girl of Meryl Streep’s than anyone else. Suffice it to say that Anna Wintour would experience a sense of deja vu were she to walk in. Lacey has, on more than one occasion, imagined staging an intervention with the rest of her coworkers: they would corner her in her office and, once she broke down and admitted to her fangirl tendencies, Lacey would pat her boss’s white-blonde hair and coo, “there there, it’s nothing to be ashamed of--we all want to be Miranda Priestly.”

At that thought, Lacey puts a shoe with brilliant glinting spikes jutting from geode heels on the mood board she’s working on. Miranda Priestly brings to mind sharp edges--stilettos, pointed elbows, pointed glares, and all of that edge reminds her of Alexander McQueen, who is known for his weaponized clothing. The look that she’s putting together brings together an image of “brutal cuteness”, weaponized femininity, and it’s beautiful and brilliant--and it’s these trains of thoughts that make Lacey so good at what she does. Her creativity and style are the reasons she went from pencil-pushing intern to jetsetting Fashion Week attendee who gets to chose what makes it off the runway and into stores in only a few months. She’s putting together a digital style board for one of the boutiques her boss is in charge of buying for, and she’s so engrossed in her work that she, at first, doesn’t pay much attention to the package her co-worker, Samantha, places on her desk. It would be easy for her to completely ignore if it weren’t a giant bouquet of red roses, white calla lilies, and red cherry blossoms. Danny.

_Aw, how sweet._

_Ooh! Blood-red cherry blossoms threaded through the spikes on these shoes would be so--_

“Lacey!” Sam says, rolling her chair around to Lacey’s desk to nudge Lacey’s chair. She says, “You didn’t think I was going to just not ask about the wedding arrangement that was just delivered, did you?”

“I was hoping…”

“No dice. What’s in the box?”

Oh. She didn’t even notice what came with the flowers. As she’s cutting the mailing package away from the box, she says, “First of all, it’s not a wedding arrangement. Second of all--”

“Yeah, yeah, just open the damn box.”

“See? It’s just a box of choco--

Something falls from the bottom when she lifts the candy out of the delivery box.

A plane ticket.

“A plane ticket?” Sam asks.

“A round-trip boarding pass to Prague.” Lacey says, slowly reading off the info on the pass. “For tomorrow morning. Thanks for the ample warning, babe.” She mutters, already imagining the smirk Danny will give her when she chews him out for it.

When.

Because, she’s already decided she’s going.

Beside her, Sam turns her chair in a giddy circle and exaggerates a sigh. “I’m so jealous. I wish someone would send me tickets to somewhere beautiful and exotic.”

Lacey looks at the girl spinning in her chair like a schoolgirl. Sam is beautiful: brown skin that doesn’t understand the concept of a blemish, a round pixie face, and wild hair that’s both waved and colored like fire. The thing about working in the fashion industry is that you don’t even have to be a model to be connected to men who would like to spoil you rotten. And when you look like Sam, well…

“Didn’t your boyfriend fly you to a spa in Bora Bora last weekend?” Lacey asks.

“Oh yeahhh...I forgot about that.” Stealing a lily from the arrangement on Lacey’s desk, Sam says, “But, he didn’t send me a wedding bouquet, so doesn’t count.”

“I can’t with you.” Lacey puts the gifts aside and straightens up, becoming the picture of focus and determination. She pushes Sam’s chair away from her desk with her foot, and says, “I’m going to do my work. Like the adult that I am. I suggest you do the same.”

A few minutes later, a crudely folded paper airplane lands in her hair.

“Oh my god, Sam, do you have a death wish?”

Samantha rolls back into view and, throwing crepe-paper confetti in the air as she wheels around Lacey, she dramatically clutches the stolen lily to her chest, and says, “I do.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll explain later.

“I like the look.” Danny says, when he meets Lacey at the airport in Prague. The sun is out, but the wind still carries a bit of a bite, so she’s wearing a dark pink trenchcoat over her dress. She’s also wearing killer stilettos.

She says, “Yeah, I was going for Bubblegum Assassin, so that you’d at least have something pretty to look at while I killed you for dragging me halfway across the world on such short notice.”

“Classic Lacey: always considerate.”

He takes the one bag she packed, and kisses her, and she considers extending his life for another day, or two.

She loves Danny--she does. She loves that seeing him can send her blood rushing and set her pulse racing, and that now, as he’s kicking the hotel room door closed behind them and kissing her neck and tugging at her clothes, she can’t decide if she wants to rip his head off for being so impulsive, so irrational, so...Danny, or whether she wants to tear his clothes off for those very same reasons. She loves the way he moans when her nails graze his shoulders as she’s reaching to tangle her fingers in his hair; bites her chest and kisses the bruise; kisses her pulse points and says her name the way he does.

She loves him.

But, it’s easy to love him when he steals her breath with only one glance. It’s easy to love him when he flies her to Europe for a casual lunch date. It’s easy to love him when he’s backing her up against walls and pressing himself against her. It’s easy to love him when he’s kissing her and holding her like he’s caught in a current and her hips are his anchor. But will it be easy to love him when she watches him play with other people’s feelings in the creepy cat-and-mouse way that he does?

 

She thinks back to her conversation with Clara, to questions not many other people have to ask themselves about the people they love and, for a moment, the wide brown eyes that normally soothe her, chill her instead.

“Danny, I’m scared.” She says.

They’re walking down a quiet, picture-perfect street after lunch at a cafe. It’s one of the reasons she’s always loved this place; every frame of its day-to-day existence looks like it was snatched from a holiday postcard. This place makes her feel like smiling and skipping down the street. Danny holds her hand as they walk along the cobbled sidewalk, and she knows that in their coats and with their drinks, they, too, look picture-perfect.

He stops walking, brings his hand a few inches away from her hair, and when he takes it away, he’s holding a tiny spider that was scuttling down a teeny thread.

“Of this? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He says, with that typical self-assured smirk.

She takes her hand away from his and moves to stand by wrought-iron bench that’s beside a lamppost. She doesn’t laugh, or smile, or look at him, and he knows.

“You’re scared of me.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just looks down the empty street.

“Lacey, you once told me that I would never just be the boy who killed his aunt.”

“And you’re not. But, you are an extremely manipulative person. You lie--

“I don’t lie to you.”

“That’s only a mild comfort.”

“Lacey…”

“Danny, you keep secrets from me all of the time. You don’t always tell me where you’re going, or why, but you expect me to just pick up and go along with it. Like now--what the hell have you been doing in Prague all of this time?”

He looks wounded, but when he takes a step closer to her she backs away until she bumps into the metal bench. He stops approaching and takes a few steps back. He looks down at their feet, and when his hair falls in front of his face, she wants to push it away. But, even though theoretically she knows that she can’t recoil from his touch and expect him to allow hers, she knows that Danny would. He would let her hurt him.

She bites her lip. “I’m just worried that...what if--what if you’re just in love with the idea of me? What happens when that fades? What if I’m still so excited by you because of the inherent danger of being with you?”

“Don’t.” He says, “Don’t say that. If you’re looking for reasons to walk away, you don’t need them. You can do that without an explanation, and I won’t stop you. What I won’t let you do is use me as an excuse. I’ve been in love with you since we were eight years old--I still look at you the way I did when we were sixteen…”

“And maybe that’s the problem. We’re not sixteen anymore, Danny.”

“Lacey…” He puts his head in his hands and pulls his fingers through his hair. “You are the only thing in my life that has ever been certain, and I’m trying to hold onto you for as long as I can, but I can’t help but feel like I’m always at risk of losing you. Like one day I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone and I won’t know why. I am trying to _deal_. With my past, with my family, with my feelings. But if you just disappear, I won’t be able to…” He pauses, takes in her expression, and reworks his thoughts: “Listen, I’m not going to say that I wouldn’t be able to deal without you, or that I can’t live without you, because I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. I’m not saying I can’t live without you. I’m just saying I really don’t want to.”

“What do you want from me, Danny? What do you get from me that you couldn’t manipulate someone else into offering?”

She can tell that stings. She’s hurting him, and he’s letting her, because he knows he deserves this distance that comes between them. His limbs have the strange tension of someone who is itching to touch something they know they can’t, and this is so frustrating because just earlier today she was in his arms and straining for his touch, but now he can’t bring her back to him.

He starts to pace, running his hands through his hair--brown flashing through inky black over and over again, and she is sitting on the bench, waiting for him to say that she is all he wants so that she can refute it.

Instead, he stops in front of her and says, “I want you to tell me to leave.”

“...”

“Lacey, look at me, and tell me you’re not safe with me. Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me that you’re leaving today, and you don’t want me to come with you.”

“Danny, that’s not fair.”

“Lacey...” He’s pleading with her. Danny doesn’t plead with anyone. Danny is an arrogant, self-assured person. Yet, here he is, sitting on a bench in Prague, begging Lacey to just look at him. Only she can get him to do that; only she can humble him.

Yet, right now, the thought of forever with anyone suffocates her.

He waits. For several long minutes during which he wishes he could reach out and pull her into his arms, he just waits. He waits long enough that a car actually drives along this empty road.

Finally, Lacey quietly just says, “Go back to the hotel.”

She looks away so that she doesn’t have to watch him deflate. He stays there for a moment longer, then take something out of his pocket.

“Here’s what I came here to pick up.” He says, setting the little box on the bench.

She only picks it up to open when she can no longer see him walking away.

It’s not a ring.

It’s a butterfly wing. A small glass wing with silver veins and an outline of silver that capped the wing from apex to apex and glinted like steel.

Lacey starts to cry.

Fucking Danny Desai.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and especially to mytwisteddaceyluv for being so incredibly supportive; I really appreciate your commentary :)

_Danny knew when Lacey was about to bolt. She was in his bed, with his arms around her and her hair fanned out across his bare chest. He was asleep, but woke up when he felt her tense and slide away from him. He knew she was about to run. She’d been overthinking everything. She was always overthinking him. She sat up, drew away from him, and started to quietly put her clothes back on. She was silhouetted by the moonlight, and he wondered how long he should pretend to be asleep._

_“Kissing you is like catching butterflies.” He whispered, and got a tiny little gasp of surprise._

_She looked back at him on the bed, sleepy brown eyes watching her, and her eyes were wild with panic--she needed to get away from all of this. From them. From the possibility of together._

_“Danny…” She said, keeping her voice low, as she tried to figure out what to say._

_He just shook his head. Told her to go. “I’m not going to pinch your wings. I’ll just enjoy you for as long as you’ll let me before you fly away._

 

 

*

Lacey is the only person Danny has ever known to chase butterflies and catch them. She would stay in their little hangout in the woods, chasing the butterflies as they threaded through the trees. Sometimes, it took only minutes for her to have one flapping around in her cupped hands. Other times, it would take hours--when she would come really close, but then Danny or Jo would jump too quickly, or make a noise, and the butterflies would scatter. Danny asked her how she did it, but it was weird for her to explain how she did it, because it was about more than just being careful. It was about focusing, finding, and tapping into a relaxed stillness coming from your very core that allowed you to be sure of just when the right moment would be for you to reach your hand out and-- _catch_.

Danny came up with his own explanation: “Lacey, you are magic.”

When he finally got the hang of it--catching butterflies, she taught him the two most important rules: never pinch a butterfly’s wings, and never try to keep it. Her wide brown eyes were serious as she put her hands over his to gently open them and release the butterfly with the brilliant blue wings.

She said, “You don’t get to hold onto everything forever.”

He was so close to her in that moment that she was all he could see. At nine years old, Danny should have thought Lacey was gross, but he didn’t. He wanted to press his mouth to her smooth round cheek, and he wanted her to look at him and see him, too. She was everything, and she was perfect.

She was always smiling at him, teasing him, and running along in front of him without looking back to see if he was following her--because, she just knew he would be. He was her shameless shadow. Lacey chased butterflies, and Danny chased Lacey.

At ten years old, when he collapsed in the green beside her, winded from running after her, she asked, “Why do you always follow me? You’re always there, no matter how far I run.”

“That’s just cuz I want to make sure you stay safe and don’t do anything dumb.” He said, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Like I’d need you to protect me.” She said, making a face back. He didn’t tell her the truth; he followed her because she ran without a care for anything else or for who might be watching, and when someone runs like that, you want to know what they’re looking for. You want to be there when they find it.

Danny broke one of the butterfly rules when he went to juvie; he tried to hold onto her forever--basking in the memories of her that flooded his mind like sunlight through a window. When you lose your normal for five years, nostalgia is a hell of a drug. _Lacey_ was a hell of a drug.

 

 

*

“Let’s do it now. Let’s do it here.” She says, closing the door behind her.

Danny’s suitcase is open on the bed, and he’s already almost done packing. He hasn’t bothered to tie his hair back up.

“Do what?” He asks carefully, looking at her with eyes that break her heart. He looks like he’s afraid to step closer.

She turns the wing between her fingers--something so delicate that has been rendered unbreakable.

“Get married. I’ve always wanted to get married in Prague.

“I’m sorry--what?”

Stunned silence.

Motion to reach out to touch her.

Hesitation.

Hands unsure of what to do.

Hands running through hair.

She says, “I love you. I’m scared, okay? I’m not going to lie about that. But, I love you. And I think I want to be with you for a while.”

His smile is wry. “You can’t be with someone you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of you, per se. I’m afraid of being tied to you forever with no way out.”

“Lacey Porter, Romance Queen.” He says, drily, but his sarcasm is lost when she crosses the room and closes the space between them.

Later, when she’s contentedly curled against him, he tells her that he also had a ring made.

“Then why’d you give me this instead?” She asks, of the butterfly wing.

“Because--well...look at where we are now.” He says, and he’ll swear he can feel the heat of her blushing cheeks on his chest.

“You knew.” She grumbles.

He gets serious, and cups her chin in his hand so that he can lift her face to his.

“Hey, stop doing that.” He says softly, “Stop acting like I’m this omniscient, manipulative monster. Stop pretending that you’re not able to read me like a kindergarten book.”

She considers this, biting her lip absently. There are a lot of very valid reasons to be afraid of Danny. She doesn’t have to worry about them--and, it’s not because she “changed him” or “made him a better person”. She and Danny are not a fairy tale. He murdered his aunt when he was eleven. He is an extremely manipulative person.

But, he doesn’t lie to Lacey. She is one of the few people that will always--fearlessly and consistently--call him out on his bullshit. She can see right through him, and she can cut him down to size. He is a game that she doesn’t have to play--if he is the game, then she is the rulebook.

“No rings, okay?” she asks, suddenly. “Rings are bit too...binding. Can we just be for now?”

“Hmm...rings are too much, but legally binding yourself to me isn’t?”

“Eh...I heard there are tax benefits.” She says, with a shrug, and Danny’s sexy smirk is back.

She and Danny won’t build a quiet life together. They will travel. They will find adventure in each other. She will understand him during those times when all he is is a wall of silence, when he is a vault and his mouth is sewn shut and he just wants to quietly escape into his own mind. And, he will understand when she needs to run away from it all.

“What?” She asks, aware of his staring.

“Nothing. It’s just that I’ve been watching you bite your lips for a while now...and I want a try.”

 

 

*

“This was a really bad idea.” Lacey says.

“Getting married?” Danny asks.

“No, waiting until we got back into the country to tell them.”

He agrees. They are standing in the Porter kitchen in Green Grove three weeks after their spontaneous and unceremonious “wedding”, and their mothers are livid. He’d forgotten just how terrifying their mothers could be, and right now they are color-contrasted mirrors of the same beautiful rage. Clara is sitting in one of the tall chairs at the counter, casually spreading peanut butter on an oreo cookie (“You guys got married in Prague and didn’t tell anyone? And now you’re going to tell Mom by yourself? On what planet did you think I’d let you do that without me there to watch?”)

Judy’s arms are folded across her chest, and Karen is frowning harder than should be possible. They have been ranting since Danny and Lacey walked through the door.

An amused Clara says, “I, for one, think what you did was really cool. You eloped in Prague!”

Judy and Karen strongly disagree.

“Cool? No, no, it’s not ‘cool’.”

Judy says, “You’re my oldest daughter” at the same time Karen says, “You’re my only daughter--how could you do this to me?”

A way younger Danny might have been jealous, angry, annoyed, insecure--Karen had made it clear on several occasions that she would have preferred having a daughter. The Danny who is now standing with his hand in Lacey’s is only amused.

Karen is practically hysterical. “How could you do this without telling us? There were supposed to be pearls! And big dresses! And an ice sculpture! And rice!”

“You owe us a ceremony.” Judy snaps at them, and she and Karen walk out, leaving the house together to grumble about how they’ve been robbed of their rights as mothers.

Clara is way more amused than she should be, and Lacey gives her a look that says ‘thanks for the support. not.”

“Where are they even going?” Clara asks.

Danny says, “Probably to start planning the wedding of their dreams--I mean, our dreams.”

Suddenly, Lacey says, “You know, I hear London’s beautiful this time of year. I’ll drive.”

“they’d shut down the airport before you got within a two mile radius.” Clara says, and it's only partially a joke--Judy and Karen know people who know people who are both in love with, and very afraid of them.

 

 

*

Lacey and Danny “agree” to a reenactment and a big reception at McNally Park--”agree”, in this case, being synonymous with “are forced to”.

“She definitely wants this wedding more than I did.” An amused Lacey says to Danny one night.

After the wave of rage that came from the surprise, Judy and Karen got to planning, and things both lightened up and got hectic around here. Friends, old and new, are coming by to congratulate them, and so many people have been milling through the house that Lacey and Danny spend most of their time in Danny’s old room at the Desai house.

She is lying in bed with him one day after a cake sampling with Karen. He says, “Hell, I think she wants this wedding more than *I* did.”

“You’re the daughter she always wanted.” Danny says, with a smile, and she’s really glad he doesn’t seem to bitterly remember any of what Karen has said in the past about not being able to connect with him the way she would have connected with a daughter. As if he knows what Lacey is thinking, he kisses her and says, “Don’t worry--you’ll look way hotter in that dress than I would.”

In the days that follow, Lacey finds it weird just how little pressure she’s feeling. Being with Danny is just so...easy. It also probably helps that they are not as involved in the planning as everyone else is (She told her mom, “You want it? You plan it.”).

 

“Did you see this coming?” Lacey asks Karen.

She is at the vanity in Karen’s room, having been transformed into the bride Judy and Karen envisioned--big, beautiful white dress, tiara, and all. She refused to wear heels, though, and is wearing sandals under the big dress--“heels in grass? Mother, please.”

“You and Danny eloping in Prague? No, I didn’t see that coming.” Karen teases.

“Danny and I being together at all.” Lacey says, and Karen slows down, absently playing with Lacey’s hair as she considers this. Lacey said no to a big fancy updo, so her hair is just in simple soft waves down her shoulders.

“I wasn’t sure, but I hoped for it.” She says, “People don’t just marry into families like ours, and not many women would know exactly what to do with a guy like Danny. He’s just like his father--it takes a special person to deal with a Desai. He’s charming, so all of his girlfriends have adored him, but no one has challenged him. I’ve never seen anyone have the same effect on him that you do. I’ve watched you unravel him with one look, and when he’s in one of those moods where he just completely shuts down and won’t talk to anyone, you’re the only person he’ll let bring him out. You’re the only person who has ever been able to hurt him, and I...wow--I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

Lacey says, “No, it’s fine. I needed to hear that. I want to know that we’re right for each other, so I needed to hear that.”

Karen smiles at Lacey’s reflection. Her blonde hair is perfectly curled, and she’s wearing a beautiful blue dress.

“Well, if there’s one thing I definitely do want you to hear, it’s that I am so proud to be able to call you my daughter. You’re brilliant, and beautiful, and strong, and kind, and--sorry, I’m rambling again.”

Lacey smiles back, offering Karen one of the decorative boxes of tissues Judy ordered (“Do we really need…?” Danny had started to ask, when he picked up one the monogrammed tissue boxes from the floor of Lacey’s room, but she just warned him not to. “Just don’t ask any questions. It’s easier that way.”) These tissue boxes were a good investment after all; Karen seems to need them more than the mother-of-the-bride does. She blinks away the tears and dabs carefully at the corners of her eyes, and Lacey smiles at that small gesture--no matter what, Karen will always be sure to remain photogenic.

“I’m just so proud of the person you’ve become, okay? I’m glad Danny held on to you.”

Lacey offers Karen a hug, and Judy walks in, also tear-eyed, and joins in the hug.

“Oh my goodness, you guys are the actual worst.” Lacey teases, laughing from underneath the sweet floral scents of her mothers. “I love you, both, so much.”

“Can’t believe you went to Prague and thought you could get married without us.” Judy mutters, in that way people do when they’re trying to sound angry even though they’ve just been crying.

“It’s okay, though, because we’re still getting all of the waterworks.” Lacey says, and Judy gives her a look.

“Oh, would you just get out there and get married already.” Judy says.

“You mean, remarried.”

Karen says, “I swear, between you and Danny, I just can’t handle all of this sass.”

“We get it from our mothers.” Lacey says with a grin, and Judy and Karen exchange eye rolls.

 

Their mothers have outdone themselves. Nothing was rushed; Judy and Karen took a few months to plan it properly. There is themed catering (there is food. so much food. and, Karen got her ice sculpture, goddamnit), family has flown in (If Danny’s going to look like Vikram when he gets that much older, praise those genes), as have friends (Sarita doesn’t scowl when she looks at Danny anymore; Sam won’t let Lacey forget that she so called this; Lacey’s work friends have come bearing couture gifts; and when Archie stopped to talk to Danny, all he wanted to know was “how did you get her to promise you ‘forever’?”. Danny considered that there was no loathing in Archie’s eyes, just acceptance, and he told the truth: “I didn’t. I just asked for a series of ‘right nows’.”).

McNally Park has been transformed. Even Lacey is in awe as she stands at the end of the aisle. It’s a springtime wonderland, and she understands why Judy and Karen needed this.

Everyone rises when Lacey shows up, standing tall and beautiful and unveiled, and her heart swells. This is just a reenactment for the benefits of their friends and family, so she didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed. She didn’t expect it to feel so much different, but it does, and it’s a good different. She and Danny needed both experiences: the solace of a peaceful ‘wedding’ with no one else but each other, and the welcome warmth from the presence of family and friends.

Standing at the ‘altar’, a giant wrought-iron arch wrapped over and over again with flowers, Danny breaks into a grin when he sees Lacey, and she starts to practically speed walk down the aisle. Even though they’re already married, even though she’s already been through this, she’s finding that she still can’t wait to be by his side.

“Do it right, or we’ll make you do it again.” Judy threatens, and everyone laughs, but Lacey slows down; she knows Judy and Karen aren’t playing.

“Hi.” She says, with a big smile when she gets to Danny. She’s grinning at him because she’s expecting him to roll his eyes or say something sarcastic. This should be where he makes a joke--“I’m getting the strangest sense of deja vu”...or something. But, she is so beautiful, and god the way her face lights up when she smiles is so beautiful that he’s actually glad their mothers made them do this again. He would do this over a million times to watch Lacey walk to him with this smile on her face. This is not a joke. His mother and father are watching him marry Lacey, and this is so very surreal. He can only think of one thing to say:

“Hey, Lace.”

The intensity of his voice makes her blush all over, and she can’t hold his gaze. Everyone sits down, and there is a quiet in which Lacey feels like it’s just her and Danny, and she feels really lucky that she can still feel this way about someone who has been in her life as long as Danny has.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today--

Lacey interrupts with, “We are gathered here today because our mothers demanded it.”

“I’m glad they did.” Danny says, quietly, and Lacey thinks that maybe getting to have two honeymoons will be fun.

“Do you, Lacey Elizabeth Porter, take this man to be your--

“I already did. I’m sorry, I mean, I do.”

Pastor Creech rolls his eyes--he grew up with these kids, and expects nothing less than this tomfoolery from the both of them. Nevertheless, he turns to Danny and says, “Daniel Vi--

“Can we please just skip to the part where I get to kiss her.” Danny says, and light laughter ripples through the crowd.

He dips her with a dramatic flair before he kisses her, and when he stands her back upright, says, “That one was for you, Mom.”

Lacey holds his hand up, and they take theatrical bows together.

“Shut up.” Karen says, but she is laughing through tears.

Lacey was right about this meaning a lot to Karen. Lacey is giving Danny what Karen never thought he could have: a “normally ever after”. Who else would not run, screaming, from his past, but instead help him build a future? And as for Lacey, who could read her like Danny could? Who else could both finish her sentences with self-assurance of someone who knew her like she was his other half _and_ ignite her senses, as if he were a livewire, everytime he touched her? Who else knew when to come close and when to pull away, and exactly what would make her stay?

Lacey gets to change out of her expensive and fluffy wedding dress, and into a more comfortable yellow one that looks great against her skin and makes her look like a goddess--Danny’s words.

“Look who knows his lines.” Lacey teases.

“Oh, I’m smooth.” He says, adjusting his bow tie and given her an eyebrow wiggle that’s supposed to be seductive.

“You try.”

He feigns offense, and she kisses him under the twinkling lights, as everyone is dancing and eating and just revolving around them. This night is passing in a string of compliments, hugs, and well-wishing, and for the first time in a really long time, Green Grove feels like Lacey’s home.

“Sarita! Phoebe!” Lacey waves them over. It’s smothering group-hug time, and Sarita even gives Danny a hug.

“Wow.” Danny says, “It’s ah...it’s really good to see you, too, Sarita.”

Lacey nudges Sarita’s shoulder with her own and tells her, “thank you.” For her presence, for the presents, and “for not being too big of a bitch today.”

“Yeah, well a cute dress and a special occasion will work wonders for an attitude.” Sarita says.

Lacey dances with her father, Vikram (who mussed up Danny’s hair and said, “Don’t mess this up.”), her mother and Karen, her friends, and finally, she is spun to Danny, and even though there is loud laughter and a raucous celebration revolving around champagne and cake and food, when Danny puts his arms around her and pulls her close, there is a peaceful quiet in her mind that makes her feel like they are the only ones there. He murmurs into her neck that he loves her, and he looks down at her with eyes that have hidden a million lies and lips that have sealed a few fates, and Lacey isn’t terrified.

For either of them, there was never really anyone else.

 

 

*

Late, late into the night, after everyone has mostly stumbled to their homes and hotels, and the park looks like a whirlwind went through it, Lacey and Danny decide to go somewhere familiar.

The diner is quiet, and there is only one person working the counter tonight. He nods at them when they walk in. They don’t need menus.

“Is it me, or are these booths a lot smaller?” Lacey asks, sliding into one. She’s wearing Danny’s jacket over her strapless dress. He slides into the booth next to her and puts a small flower in her hair, and they order milkshakes and baskets of fries.

Lacey says, “I haven’t minded this. I haven’t minded being back as much as I thought I would.”

“Probably helps that you don’t have to stay.”

It’s true. They have a house in Green Grove: a present from Vikram and Karen (as if they hadn’t done enough). They gave Lacey and Danny the address and two sets of keys, and they pulled up to a beautiful house with a giant gift basket that mostly contained Lacey’s favorites (“I swear, my parents love you more than they love me.” Danny said, shaking his head as he went through the basket), and a note in Vikram’s sharp script that read, “Everyone needs a home base.” So, Lacey doesn’t have to stay, but she’ll always have somewhere to come back to.

Danny studies her in the low, warm light of the diner, and she is so peaceful. This city girl really left all of Green Grove’s shadows behind. The boy brings them their order, and Danny starts in on Lacey’s fries as soon as he’s done with his own.

“Just like old times.” He says, around a mouthful of fries, when he catches her staring. She rolls her eyes at him and kisses his cheek.

“Yeah, Danny. Just like old times.”

Outside of Johnny Cakes, the rain is heavy, and the drama of the years Danny Desai came back is no longer important, no longer the biggest source of tension between parents and administrators and soccer captains and teammates and friends. All that matters is that she and her best friend are sharing milkshakes in a back booth of Johnny Cakes, and even though a part of her wishes she’d had this back then, all those years ago, she’s glad to have it now.

There’s only one person missing from all of this, but Lacey just can’t help that Jo is still five years late figuring out who she is.

 

 *

Clara is sitting on top of Lacey’s white sofa and painting her toe nails red, and Sarita is wiggling her toes inside the foot bath they’re in. Phoebe is content, sitting back in an armchair with a face mask and wrapped in a big fluffy bath robe. Spa day and girls’ night in: Judy’s idea, because “Stressing isn’t good for the baby.”

Lacey groans. She’s splayed out on a giant chair and getting her nails painted. She says, “I know, but this is going to hurt so badly.”

With sympathy, Judy says, “Aw, honey...that’s what epidurals are for.”

“But what about the beauty of childbirth, and all of that?” Lacey asks, to which her support circle responds with a chorus of, “Bullshit.” and “Fuck that.”

Lacey snorts. “You’re all so very supportive.”

“Yes, we are.” Clara says, “Which is why we all want you to stay sane through this entire squeezing-my-godchild through your size six hips.”

“Wait…” Sarita asks, “What do you mean  _your_  godchild?”

Judy says, “uh-oh.”

“I’m her sister. Everyone knows that when something happens to the parents, the child automatically goes to the next of kin.” Clara says.

“Blood [of the covenant] is thicker than water [of the womb].There are clothes in Lacey’s closet that I will never get back--that’s true sisterhood.”

“But she’s sort of naming the baby after me.”

“Oh, please, she’s  _clearly_  naming the baby after me. Sarah...Sarita? Um, hello.”

“Mom, help--make it stop.” Lacey says, in mock anguish.

An amused Judy sits on the arm of Lacey’s chair and squeezes her daughter’s shoulders. She suggests that the baby have two godmothers.

Clara says, “I think that means we have to become lesbian lovers and get married.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what that means.” Lacey says, “And then  _I_  will get to be the sole godmother of your child, and I will lord that over both of you.”

Headlights sweep over the windows, and a few minutes later, Danny is walking in through the garage door to see a ridiculously gleeful Lacey.

"What have you done?" He asks the women being pampered in his living room why his wife is rubbing her hands together like a devious cartoon villain.

“They created a monster.” Judy blames Sarita and Clara.

“A monster who will never be tamed!” Lacey says, throwing her head back with maniacal laughter.

Danny lowers a box of cupcakes into her lap, and she corrects herself.

“I will be tamed for five minutes.”

While she’s burying her nose in a red velvet cupcake, Danny kisses the top of her head and greets her with, “Hey, beautiful.”

“Thank you, doll, but really--your wife is sitting right there.” Judy says, with a hairflip, and Danny grins at her.

Tomorrow won’t be this calm. Tomorrow, there will be people milling all through and around the house, petting her stomach and clamoring for hugs, and there will be excited chatter and the loudness of paper wrappers being torn off and gifts being cheered for--all of which would overwhelm Lacey if, tonight, she didn’t have Danny, Judy, Clara, Sarita, and Phoebe here to be her calm before the storm.

 

  **THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I totally almost ended this story with:
> 
> "Danny is kissing her cheek, and her mouth is full of cupcakes, and for right now, it doesn’t matter that Lacey will have a lot of explaining to do when their baby comes out with blue eyes."
> 
> But I took it out, because even though I'm a bit of a sadistic writer, even I have my limits. I was thoroughly entertained, though ;)


End file.
